


First and Last

by brink



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Dark, F/M, Gaslighting, Mind Control, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-05-24 05:02:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6142330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brink/pseuds/brink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of firsts - and one last.<br/>[A look at several important moments during the time Jessica was under Kilgrave's control.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Day

**Author's Note:**

> This story is dark in nature, but not graphic. Enjoy.

"So, Jessica Jones. Superhero! What's your story? It's bound to be exciting."

Jessica shakes her head. In her mind, she is reeling. Why is she here, with this man? What is she doing?

She's eating, that's what. Something she can't pronounced and has never had before, but there's duck in it. _He's_ had a few bites of his dish, but seems much more interested in her than in what's on his plate. He leans on his elbows, eyes bright as they watch her. She doesn't know his name. She doesn't know anything. She just eats.

"No?" says the man, grimacing. "I can't believe that. People like us, we have stories. What are your powers, exactly?"

Jessica is not going to tell him. No one but Trish gets to know about her powers.

And yet...

"Strength. I'm strong. And I can jump."

"All of us can jump, sweetheart," laughs the Britishman. He seems like he's having a great time.

For some reason, she elaborates, "High. I can jump very high."

"I see, I see." The mirth doesn't leave his eyes. "She punches and she jumps. And how did you get to be a puncher and a jumper?"

"I don't know."

"What, you just woke up one day and could do..." His chopsticks swivel in the air, indicating her entire body. "... What you do?"

"Pretty much," says Jessica.

"Huh. Is it genetic, then?" he says, causally having a bit of chicken.

Jessica freezes. She looks at her food. _You like Sichuan_. She wants to stuff the duck-dish she can't pronounce into her mouth. She wants to, but she doesn't understand why. Something is happening. Something terrible. And now her mind veers relentlessly towards what she usually tries so hard to avoid.

Her family. Had any of them had powers?

Her dad with his Jumper's knee?

Her mother who couldn't get the lid off a jar of jam?

Her brother who loathed gym class?

Had anyone in that car secretly been able to save them all, stop the whole calamity from happening?

"No," says Jessica. Or she tries, but only the barest sound escape her. But she has to answer, she wants to, needs to, so she says again, more clearly: "No, my family didn't have any powers."

The man tilts his head. "Oh. Sore subject?"

"Yes," whispers Jessica.

"Why? Did they mistreat you? Tell me."

"No, not ever. My brother would be an ass sometimes, but... he was just a kid."

The words are like poison. But she has to say them.

Sensing her distress, the man sets his chopsticks aside and leans closer. "Did something happen to them? Something bad?"

There is a mimicry of sympathy there, but underneath it something more sinister lurks. He reminds her in that moment of the kind of adult who finds children's sorrows insignificant, yet entertaining.

For the first time, rage bubbles in Jessica's chest. For the first time, she becomes fully aware that she is here against her will. She looks into the stranger's face, and she sees a handsome, charming man, but she knows in that moment that he is dangerous. That she is in danger.

"They died," says her mouth. "It was a car accident. I was the only one who made it."

"How tragic," says the man and treats himself to another bite of chicken.

Jessica stands abruptly.

" _No_ ," he says casually, and she freezes. "Don't leave just yet. Sit down. There you go. I thought we were getting along. I mean, you're not much of a conversationalist, but I'm good at getting people to talk." His eyes glitter at her. "I think you've noticed."

Jessica sits there, paralyzed and stiff. "I want to leave."

"No, you don't."

"I don't."

"See, you and I, we're going to get to know each other. You want to know my name. Ask me."

"What's your name?"

"Kilgrave."

It's a joke. A fucking joke. Something she will laugh at later, with Trish - except at the thought, the blood in her veins runs cold with fear. What if he asks her about Trish? Will the words spill over her lips like they did with her family? What else will he make her say?

What else will he make her do?

"Now, Jessica Jones. I'm dying to know more about you, so tell me everything. And do me a favour, won't you?"

She will. She knows she will. Whatever he says, she's going to do it, like everything else he's been telling her all night. She's helpless. She's caught. She's petrified. And he fucking knows it.

Kilgrave tells Jessica, "Smile."


	2. First Week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jessica needs to make a phone call.

Kilgrave drums his fingers against the smooth kitchen counter top. "Not a very good friend, it would seem," he quips. "Or maybe just too busy to bother?"

Jessica has her eyes fixed on a porcelain bowl full of strawberries, pressing her phone to the ear that's turned towards Kilgrave. He doesn't realise it, but she has placed the phone on that side on purpose, hoping it might drown out the sound of his voice. This is what her free will has been reduced to - the tiny acts that slip by his notice. Jessica, however, is still losing out, because the drawn out, empty _bleeps_  of the phone are even worse to listen to than Kilgrave.

The person on the other end is not picking up.

Seemingly for want of better things to do, Kilgrave grabs a strawberry and inspects it. "They're small, but that's only because they're organic," he explains for no particular reason. He considers the berry another moment, then - like a child with a piece of candy - is unable to resist and pops it into his mouth. "Not much to look at, but so very sweet, it's practically sinful."

 _Pick up_ , thinks Jessica, hating herself for making this wish. If the connection is made, she will be forced to lie to the one person in the world she owes complete honesty.

Kilgrave chews, swallows, and then once more his fingers are drumming impatiently against the counter top. "Jessie, if she wanted to, she would have answered the phone by now, don't you think?"

"She's probably put it in silent mode," Jessica defends, still without looking at Kilgrave. "I thought you said the strawberries were for later," she goes on, wanting to steer the conversation in another direction. The phone makes another hollow _bleep_ against her ear.

"Well, yes, I did, because I wanted us to have something nice to look forward to while getting this boring phone call over with. But I'm tired of waiting. Patsy's not picking up."

When she doesn't reply to this, he tilts his head in something that might resemble pity.

"Is it possible you could have been wrong about her? A week isn't a very long time not to hear from someone, Jessica. Are you sure you didn't overestimate how concerned she would be? I know I asked you to be honest, but maybe emotions got the better of you."

Jessica does not know if it counts as a coping mechanism, but she has noticed a pattern in which she starts to daydream about smashing things whenever Kilgrave starts talking to her like he is now. She considers in this moment how the stainless steel refrigerator door would fold like tin foil around her fist, and how good it would feel.

"Trish has been texting me," she says dully. "You've read them yourself. She's wondering why I don't reply."

"Fine, if you say so." He starts drumming his fingers again. "But if she cared so much, I should think she would want to answer -"

" _Hello? Jessica?_ "

"- the phone."

All of Jessica's world narrows into one single point: Trish's voice in her ear.

In a heartbeat, her throat has seized up, making it hard to even draw breath. Her eyes flash to Kilgrave's.

_Help. Help me. Get me out._

"Hi, Trish," she says in a voice that only just manages not to betray her inner conflict.

Kilgrave's face is alert in an instant. "Put it on speaker right now," he demands, and she has to obey.

" _Jessica, what the hell!_ "

Trish's voice rings out in the bright modern kitchen, so very spotless but for a single strawberry stain on the table, and a stream of blood leaking from the cupboard wherein the owner of the apartment is bleeding to death.

" _Why haven't you been answering my texts? I thought we had plans yesterday. I sat at the bar for almost an hour fending off creeps before I gave up. Not my idea of a fun Saturday night._ "

"I'm sorry," says Jessica.

_Placate her._

"I was at home, drunk off my ass, and I fell asleep."

_Fool her._

"I've been meaning to call. I was planning on going out of town for a while, you know, just get away from it all for a bit."

_Make her believe nothing is wrong._

But Jessica has failed at this last order, because Trish's voice takes on a bit of an edge when she replies: " _What? You want to leave town? Where did that come from?_ "

Kilgrave's eyes are boring into Jessica's. For all his usual casualness, he can maintain absolute focus when he wants to, she will grant the psychopath this. "Careful now," he whispers too low for Trish to hear.

"I'm just a little fed up, that's all," Jessica hears herself say. It's a strange thing, to obey orders that leave room for interpretation. It's her problem-solving, only it happens without her conscious effort or consent. "A week ago I came across some thugs beating up a guy. I saved him - you know, the hero thing. But then guess what?"

" _What?_ "

Kilgrave tilts his head and raises his eyebrows. _Yes, what?_

"Turns out, not only is he a drug addict himself, fucked up on acid no less, but he's an ungrateful ass, too. He starts calling me a freak and a monster and worse. So, you know. I've been wondering who the hell I'm supposed to be playing the hero for. Doesn't seem like anybody in this town is worth saving."

Kilgrave grins at her, and Jessica feels sick.

" _Don't say that, Jessica,_ " pleads Trish. " _I mean, god. What an asshole. But you know there are better people than that, Jess_."

"Yeah, I know." She stares directly into Kilgrave's eyes. "But there are some real fucked up people out there too, Trish. Trust me."

" _Listen, come by my place tonight. We'll stay in and drink some wine, talk it out._ "

Jessica allows herself to imagine what that might be like for a few seconds, before it becomes too painful.

"Here's the thing though, Trish, I already have a ticket out of this place, and let's just say the cost of it didn't leave a lot to cover the rent."

" _Jessica.._."

"I know it's sudden, but I'm alright. I just need a fresh breath of air. And fewer assholes. Just for a while."

" _I don't understand._ " Trish is becoming more agitated. " _Are you really serious? Are you leaving? When? Jessica, you can't just leave!_ "

There's real pain there, and real worry. It tears at Jessica's heart. She can't even consider what this must look like from Trish's perspective. The two of them are a team, and now one of them is pulling out for no good fucking reason. Stupid, hopeless Jessica with nothing under control.

But none of Jessica's turmoil can make it into the conversation, not within the constraints Kilgrave has set on her.

"Trish, it's not forever. This is something I need. You'll be alright, you have your radio show. You're doing real good, Trish. I'll be back before you know it, I promise."

" _I don't get this. This isn't like you. Are you alright?_ "

_Placate. Fool. Make her believe..._

"Shit, Trish, can I please take a vacation without getting overanalysed? Normal people take vacations, you know. I know you want me to be the hero and everything, but taking a swing at normal sounds nice too, and I want to give it a go. At least for a while. Can you get off of my back about it? Please?"

Silence stretches on the other end. Then...

" _Swear to me that you will call regularly_."

Knowing it's all up to Kilgrave anyway, Jessica answers, "I swear."

" _Swear to me that you won't get in any trouble._ "

"I swear I won't get in any trouble... that I can't handle."

That's funny, the kind of joke they typically share, which lends this conversation a hint of normalcy. But Trish's voice remains deadly serious for her final request.

" _Swear to me that you are alright._ "

Light assaults her from every gleaming surface in the kitchen. Kilgrave's eyes are set on her like a cat's on a mouse. A pool of blood on the floor advances slowly towards her feet. And on the counter top, a bowl of organic strawberries awaits Kilgrave's order for her to enjoy them.

"Trish," says Jessica's voice into Jessica's phone, carrying none of Jessica's actual emotions with it, "I swear I am absolutely, one-hundred percent alright. And if I wasn't, I would tell you. You know I would, Trish. You know you're the only person I trust. Can you please trust me, too?"

And with this seemingly earnest appeal, Trish is persuaded.

" _Alright, Jessica. I don't like it, but it's your life. And you know I trust you. I just don't know what I'm supposed to do without my very best friend in the world in the same city as me!_ "

She's joking now. The danger has passed. As they exchange their final remarks to end the conversation, Kilgrave smiles and gives Jessica two thumbs up. He mouths, _Well done_. And after she has put the phone down, he laughs at her.

"Such a talented little liar you are! I'll have to keep that in mind." He considers her with a sly smile for a moment. "You know what? Forget the strawberries. I have something sweeter in mind. Come along!"

He extends his hand. Jessica takes it and follows him to the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will admit to veering a little from canon, in that Jessica and Trish don't live together anymore at this point in the story. I hope that's acceptable to everyone ;-)


	3. First Month

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the anniversary!
> 
> I don't know that I'm doing anything new at this point, but I'm committed to finishing this thing now. Two chapters left!

_Maybe this is what it would be like_ , thinks Jessica distantly while she goes through the motions.

They must look happy, at least. He told her to smile first thing in the morning, and by now her jaw aches. It sits there, that smile, frozen on her face, while Kilgrave celebrates that his abuse of her has lasted a month. Well, maybe he thinks of it in different terms. Or maybe he doesn't spare it a second thought. So long as he's pleased, sated and entertained, then what does it matter what Jessica is?

But for all she knows, this is in fact how real anniversaries go. Jessica has never had one. She never even really dreamed of one either, except maybe for some vague, rose-tinted ideas from before the accident killed her family. Yet this one seems to have all the right ingredients, which she observes like she is watching a movie featuring herself: Here is Jessica, eating a lavish breakfast on a bed sprinkled with rose petals. Here is Jessica, being gifted new lingerie, racy yet tasteful. Here is Jessica, eating pasta amatriciana in a purple dress. Here is Jessica with a man, each leaning over the table towards each other.

"We're enjoying ourselves," says Kilgrave with confidence and winks. The command hides in the use of the word "we", but that doesn't make it less effective. She suddenly notices how pleasant the atmosphere around her is, how lovely it is that she is allowed a glass of wine.

"Yes, we are," says movie-Jessica, smiling.

 _A horror movie_ , thinks the real Jessica, the one that fights not to drown in his voice and wants and commands. _A horror movie in the disguise of a romance._

But the thing about movies is, they fucking end.

Jessica wants this to fucking end.

And right now, her biggest fear - the one that has haunted every single second of this nightmarish day, from the moment she opened her eyes and Kilgrave looked deeply into them and whispered, "Happy anniversary, Jessie," - is that you don't celebrate an anniversary with someone you don't intend to keep. Jessica knows this much. Anniversaries means, _We are happy_. Which is to say, _We are not done._

Jessica is smiling for him. And now she takes a sip of wine and casually asks, "Is this how you usually celebrate your anniversaries?"

Kilgrave's fork pauses in midair. He looks up and considers her a moment with slightly narrowed eyes.

"Darling, you don't think I'm submitting you to some sort of routine, do you?" he says in playful manner. "I wouldn't dream of it. You're my special girl."

"How am I to know?" says Jessica, keeping it light. "You've had girls before, I know that much. What else have you done for anniversaries? Maybe I'm missing out."

She eats another bite of food that she wants to throw up, and takes a moment before looking up at him - and still she smiles. _We're having a ch_ _ummy conversation,_ she thinks, as though her thoughts might penetrate his skull like his words does hers. _Now answer the fucking question._

She can tell he is at least somewhat suspicious by the way he is watching her. Probably he knows she is fishing for something, but he doesn't quite know what. Kilgrave smiles a slight smile and reaches out to stroke her hand. "Would you believe me if I said I haven't actually gone and celebrated an anniversary before?"

"Why, is it true?"

The snark slips out before she can stop it, a little bit of Jessica free to move between the walls of commands he's put up around her. They are both surprised by it, Kilgrave so much so that he laughs briefly. "I wouldn't lie to you, would I? There'd be no point."

Everything he's done today has been a lie - the romance covering the horror story - but Jessica lets that one slide. "So why haven't you ever celebrated an anniversary? You're obviously very good at it." She lowers her lashes, tries to look alluring. Jessica can count on zero hands how many times she's felt alluring in her life, but for whatever reason, Kilgrave is drawn to what she has. Just her fucking luck.

"Sex" does indeed prove to be a better tactic than "playful banter on a date", because Kilgrave is momentarily distracted by her cleavage as Jessica leans forward.

"Never had the inclination," he murmurs, eyes now trailing how she caresses the stem of the wineglass (that one is a Trish-move). "Nothing ever called for any kind of ceremony before, really..."

"Oh? Not even your longest relationship?"

"Not even that." His hand goes for hers.

"So cold," she jokes. "How long was it?"

His hand stops in midair before touching her.

He gets it now.

A moment hangs frozen between them as their eyes meet and neither move. Then Kilgrave slumps back into his seat, a cold smile on his face.

"Oh, Jessie." He tuts and shakes his head. "That was very slick. I didn't know you had it in you." All of a sudden he raises his voice, making Jessica jump in her seat: "Waitress! Over here, please."

Dread bursts to life within Jessica as she watches a young woman hurry over.

"What I can do for -"

"Shut up," interrupts Kilgrave calmly. "So, Jessica. You obviously have some questions. I don't really enjoy being manipulated, so I thought we should have it all out in the open. And while we talk about what it is that bothers you so, our _cameriera_ here will beat herself over the head with..." He glances around in a bored manner. "... This tray right here. Here you go, darling."

The waitress has that blank look in her eyes that people get when Kilgrave is calling the shots. She accepts the silvery tray, and in the next instance slams it against her own forehead.

The sound of it stirs the rest of the restaurant, but Kilgrave casually commands them all to go about their business, and then it's only the three of them.

"Talk," commands Kilgrave of Jessica. "And hurry, if this young girl's life means anything to you."

Another loud bang resounds as the tray makes its impact.

There is no time to think or scheme or come in at a good angle. Jessica simply babbles, "How long will it go on?"

Kilgrave sips his wine like a man without a care in the world and places it back carefully on the table. "Be specific, darling."

"This," Jessica near-yells. Her heart is pounding. Out of the corner of her eyes, she sees the waitress beginning to stumble. There's doesn't seem to be any blood yet. "How long will you keep me? When does it end? When do you let me go?"

"I don't plan these things. I enjoy you, Jessica. I keep the things I enjoy."

That is sickening to hear in multiple ways, but Jessica can't waste time considering it. "How long has it lasted before?" she barrels on.

"I haven't kept track."

"Am I different?"

That's the first question that truly grabs his attention. Kilgrave smiles.

"Oh, Jessica," he mutters, watching her with predatory eyes. "I think you might just be."

"Please," whispers Jessica. "Stop it. Make it stop. Let her go, please."

Kilgrave furrows his brow in mock concern. "Oh Jessie, I wouldn't dream of it unless I was absolutely sure you had said all you wanted to. Have you?"

That is a direct question. She can't lie. "No," she gasps, shaking and tearing up.

The waitress is on her knees. Now there's blood.

"What else, then?" asks Kilgrave lightly.

"I hate you. _I hate you so much_."

"What a terrible thing to say on an anniversary. We'll make sure you apologize for that later. You can stop now."

The last command is for the waitress. The tray leaves her limp fingers, and she crumbles in a heap on the floor.

"Look at her, Jessica," says Kilgrave. "That's your doing right there. You don't play me, darling. That's just bad manners."

By this time, Jessica is in a state of near-shock. She can do or say nothing, but stares in horror at what Kilgrave did because of her. 

She is frozen like that until Kilgrave's fingers under her chin tilts her head up. He is standing next to her chair, having left his own seat without her notice.

"Now," he says gently. "We still have a few good hours before this anniversary is over, and I know what I want to do with them. Come along. And do us a favour and get that look off your face, it's positively off-putting. A smile would suit you better."

Just like that, the romance is back on, like the horror story never even showed its face at all. But it did. That's what life with Kilgrave is - a hellscape of a living nightmare hidden beneath a thin veneer of something prettier and more normal. And God only knows how long it will go on.

 _No_ , thinks Jessica as she walks zombie-like next to Kilgrave, tucked under his arm. _Real anniversaries probably aren't like this at all._


	4. First End

From the moment the command burrows into her mind, the deed is as good as done.

There is time for deep, black dread to blossom within Jessica, but no time to beg, _No, don't make me, not that, not that._

She has already been made to. Everyone there has accepted it already, and now all three are just waiting for that final move which will make what they know is coming reality.

Jessica's fist impacts with Reva's chest in a burst of super-powered strength which steals Reva's life away from her before her body has a chance to connect with the ground.

A beat follows. Brief flashes of memories flit past Jessica's mind, images of some of the horrors she's suffered at Killgrave's behest since that godforsaken night when they first met.

_Smile._

_Fool her._

_Talk._

_Take care of her._

So careless.

Jessica stumbles toward Reva's corpse, relentlessly drawn towards it -

"Leave her be. Let's go."

\- kneels by it, reaches and almost touches, wishing for life, the same way she wishes she never met Killgrave, that he never put her through so much anguish, that none of this ever happened to her or to anyone.

But Reva's death is as real as the abuse Jessica suffered.

And this was _her_. Jessica did this. She perpetrated this crime. The weight of it is already suffocating. Her fists are raw and red from digging in cement, but murdering Reva hasn't left a scratch on her. Not anywhere visible, at least. And a disorienting fact occurs to Jessica, which is that Killgrave will regret the way her hands are mangled, and never even care what has happened to the tender fabric of her soul. Mending that will be left in her hands - hands that it has now been definitively proven have no business near fragile things.

_Away._

It emerges as an opposite to his commands in her mind, just a desperate, heartfelt, simple plea.

_Away. I can't anymore. I can't stay near him. I can't kill again for him._

She flees, staggering on heels. His voice is booming in her ears, calling her to him, and she looks toward him almost reflexively, conditioned to wait for his commands to take effect. But her mangled mind must somehow be beyond his reach in this terrible moment, because she doesn't turn back. She can't.

" _Now, Jessica!_ "

She _can't._

And then -

A screech of wheels, a crash, another body hurled into the street.

With what little mind she has left, Jessica leaves the scene of violent ends behind her and escapes into the night.

Her battered mind has only a single, shining, desperate goal in mind.

_Get to Trish._


	5. Last End

Kilgrave gives not a single fuck about Patricia Walker.

She's pleasant to look at. She kisses nice - he'll admit to that. But Kilgrave has been around the block. The world is full of beautiful women who look good, who kiss nice, who fuck like champions. They are not extraordinary, though they sometimes think so themselves. That has always amused him. Although they have on occasion been good for a little bed sport and for company at dinner, as a general they are all painfully mundane.

Jessica Jones has blown them all out of the water, and it is to her his gaze is drawn even as Patsy has her tongue nearly down his throat.

Clever Jessie. Strong Jessie. Extraordinary Jessie. Damaged Jessie, with her heart on her sleeve and subtle hopes of being a hero, of all things, when really she sees herself as the opposite.

She has never looked more vulnerable, he reflects.

Her eyes are heartbroken. A tear has escaped and trails down her cheek. She stands there and watches things unfold, powerless.

_Powerless._

It settles in his chest - a soaring feeling bigger than he can remember ever feeling before.

The experiences she gives him!

 _Fuck Patsy Walker_.

He pushes her and her probing mouth aside.

"Oh, god. It's true, isn't it? You would let me take your beloved sister..."

He is almost unsteady on his feet as he draws nearer. God, he wants it so bad. Has wanted it so bad. It's clear to him now, what he refused to admit for a while - that his hate for Jessica Jones, his desire for her to finally die, was only ever covering the desperate hope that she would be returned to him.

She is exquisite. All those moments they shared, their time together - it can go back to that. He'll have her again. And she... well, she might struggle a little, as she has a few times in the past, but it won't matter in the long run. He'll turn her over.

He is, after all, the more powerful one.

"My god. It's finally over."

It is almost too good to be true - but that whisper of suspicion has been silenced. Because Kilgrave knows Jessica. He knows her soul. And she could never risk Patsy if she had the choice, not in a million years.

_Choice._

Such poor choices she's made, his broken girl. The alcohol abuse, the decrepit living conditions, the sad little PI gig. Kilgrave is the bloody hero here, when you really think about it. He will take her away from all of those things. He will take care of her. Love her. And she will come to appreciate it in time. How could she not?

"No more fighting," he promises her. "No more - no more of these ugly displays. You'll be with me now."

He is near. He explains to her the facts - that she will feel what he feels with time. He knows it's true. It will be bliss again. Ever better than last time, because now he knows to appreciate her.

But Jessica isn't seeing the picture just yet. She doesn't look happy.

He asks her to, well, tells her to. And it's like seeing the sun rise on her face. She beams at him like she used to, and Kilgrave is again inspired to feeling a great rush of love.

He wants her to feel the same thing, so he leans in close, draws her scent into his nose and whispers against her ear, "Tell me you love me."

* * *

 

He is so fucking pathetic.

Jessica thought she was free when he was presumed dead, but she was still under his spell then. Or curse. _Trauma_ was the apt description, or so the psychiatrist had said, and Jessica had said, "Whatever," and gone home to drink.

But now it's the real thing, and it is exactly because he is alive, and because he can't command her, and because he is about to die.

And it's because she knows him, too.

She knows he could have said, "You love me," and if his influence over her had worked, he would have confused her brain and made her feel things that weren't really there.

But he said, "Tell me," instead.

He is so very simple and so single-minded.

His obsession with Jessica hadn't really been with her. It had been with his idea of the world, of himself and who he saw standing beside him, his own emotions.

Yes, he is pathetic. And she will be the one to fucking show it to him, finally. She will make him feel what he hasn't had to feel, ever.

_Powerless._

Jessica knows that this soaring, steadfast sense of victory she feels shows on her face. But she also knows that it doesn't matter. It's too late - she has Kilgrave where she wants him. He took the bait. He fell for his own stupid desires. When the world is ever at your feet, you don't cultivate impulse control.

Jessica leans around him, finds Trish. She's sorry Kilgrave got to use her like that, but at least that was as far as it went.

She looks right at her, fearless at last.

"I love you," she tells her sister.

Now Trish knows.

Now Kilgrave knows.

Now Kilgrave is in her hand, raised. His heartbeat rushes beneath her fingers, his eyes are wide.

He says nothing. Silenced at last. Out of control at last, and speechless because of it.

It's time, and she only has one last thing to say to him - something Kilgrave never obeys, because he doesn't have to, and he _shouldn't_ have to, because no human being should be made to act in such ways against their will. No, in this life, we have above all else the right to make our own choices, and to own the consequences.

_Choice._

Claiming Kilgrave's life is Jessica's choice. Jessica's responsibility. Jessica's burden, and her joy. It's hers. And that is hugely important.

Of course Kilgrave would never understand any of that. But he may connect the dots between her hand on his windpipe, and the one word he has used from day one and above every other to strangle her with.

Jessica tells Kilgrave, "Smile."

 


End file.
